


Tension

by midn1ghts



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Assassins & Hitmen, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28675536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midn1ghts/pseuds/midn1ghts
Summary: Two assassins end up each other's targets, tension escalating as they attempt to gain the upper hand, unfortunately becoming more distracted with each other. (one-shot)
Relationships: Brick/Blossom Utonium
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	Tension

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm not vey experienced with writing, but I wanted to attempt this trope. :)

Patience.

Admittedly, it was a virtue he lacked. But, sipping his martini slowly, the redhead found it in him to wait.

The bar chairs were comfortable, he would give her that. And the atmosphere was calmer than he had expected, the high-class bar a drastic difference from the chaotic nightclub he'd initially expected her to fraternize at.

If it weren't for the cold gun tucked into his waistband, and his target directly in his sights, perhaps he would have relaxed, let the smooth elevator-like music distract him from his current reality.

Setting down his glass, he tilted it in the light to where the other bar opposite of the room was reflected perfectly.

There she was, facing away from him at the other bar, loose strawberry waves cascading down her back in a mesmerizing way, complimenting the red dress she donned that night.

The strawberry mojito she ordered every time she visited the bar for the last three weeks sat in front of her, untouched.

She was a slippery one, that was for sure. Up until her visits here became a regular occurrence, that is. Most likely a sad excuse for a ploy, if he knew any better. She may as well have painted a target on her back.

He could almost picture himself laughing in the face of her superiors.

Not that she'd be alive to see it.

* * *

She hated this bar.

More specifically, she hated the people in this bar. Or a certain someone.

This assignment was quite a chore, her every move for the last three weeks meticulously planned as to not raise suspicion. Make the enemy think they've got the upper hand, and all that bullshit.

The target in question was seated in his normal area, crisp black suit and ginger hair in a half up, half down style, turned away from her at the opposite bar.

He wasn't exactly subtle- she doubted he had the ability _to_ be subtle, with his intimidating red eyes.

It was just a matter of waiting. A cruel stand-off between the two.

The handgun tucked haphazardly in her garter, hidden, but easily accessible by the slit in her dress was heavily tempting her to throw fire to the winds. But no, she would remain patient. Somewhat.

Examining her red fingernails, it occurred to her that it was a shame really, she doubted blood would wash out of this dress.

* * *

Thirty minutes to closing time, and she was still stationed at the bar. Interesting. 

Lazily checking his watch, he attempted to still his steadily growing adrenaline. He was more than ready to end this operation, and by the looks of things, they would be headed there tonight.

As if the same thought occurred to her, he watched in his glass reflection as she threw a large bill on the counter, nodded to the bartender, and made her way to the discreet back entrance.

It was practically screaming _"follow me, I dare you"._

Not one to back down from a challenge, he paid and adjusted his blazer, taking his sweet time approaching the back entrance.

He had a feeling she wasn't in a rush to go home just yet. Who was he to turn down a cat and mouse chase? That'd be very rude, indeed.

The cool night air refreshingly hit his face as he stepped out into what looked like a discreet back alley.

A quick glance told him that it was empty. Smirking to himself, he leaned against the wall, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

Before he could raise it to his lips, however, the cool metal of a gun made its presence known on his temple.

Nonchalantly continuing to take a long drag, he blew it out slowly into his target's face.

He wasn't worried, no. From the information he had, it was common knowledge she liked to toy with her targets before sinking her claws into them. Usually, that meant scaring them shitless.

"Utonium," he greeted, meeting her rose eyes.

"Jojo," she smiled back, her gun not wavering from its place on his head.

"Didn't take you for the undercover type," he mused, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his polished shoe.

Slowly dragging her gun down the side of his face, she repositioned it to face upwards under his jaw, waiting a few moments before she spoke again. "You're awfully chatty. Might have to fix that."

"It gets boring waiting around in a bar," he said, smirking devilishly down at her. "You should know- too bad we both have people to answer back to."

A cold glint entered her eye, yet her smile never wavered. "Based on where I'm standing and where you're standing...I can guess who'll be able to report back at all."

He wasn't one to engage in conversation. Especially with his targets. He was known for being silent, quick, and precise in his pursuits. However, she had piqued his curiosity over the last few weeks, and he'd decided to humor her. No harm in that.

"Well _Blossom_ , unfortunately for you, I have information you want. There is quite a big bounty on you and your sisters. Let's see- Buttercup and Bubbles was it?"

Oh, he seemed to have struck a nerve. Not bothering to respond, she simply narrowed her eyes and cocked the gun, smile falling off her face. Quite a shame.

Before she could register what had happened next, she was suddenly pinned against the wall, with her hand holding the gun forcibly twisted at an painful angle, forcing her to drop it.

Arm braced against her collarbone, holding her to the wall, he gave her a smug look. "Do remind me, what was that about who's standing where?"

Not even hesitating, she drew her silver pocketknife with her free hand, and pointed it at his navel, albeit difficult with the small space he provided her.

"Well you're certainly feisty," he commented, making a show of pulling back his blazer at his hip to show he was armed.

He hadn't drawn it. Curious by his actions, or rather his a lack of them, she raised an eyebrow at him. "Scared?" Not that she had made a move with her knife. Besides the point.

"Intrigued," he corrected.

"By what, exactly, _Brick_?"

He simply smirked at her, almost calmly catching one of her ginger locks between his fingers with his free hand.

* * *

She wasn't stupid. Far from it actually. Flattery did not effect her in the slightest. But, curse her stupid hands, while pinned against the wall by the very person she was sent to dispose of, she did not immediately plunge her knife into his abdomen.

Not that she'd admit it, but she was also intrigued.

So there she was, searching his stupid red eyes for his motive as he twirled her hair in his fingers slowly, as if waiting for her next move.

"...yeah just leave it in the alley, the pickup guys will grab it in the morning," came a voice not to far away from the pair. The sound of footsteps approaching became very apparent.

Well shit.

Getting caught in a back alley with her gun laid out on the floor and a knife in her hand was not very ideal at the moment. 

"That's my cue," he suddenly announced, letting her up from the wall, watching her with an amused expression, as if he knew she'd be unable to make any further advances before they'd be interrupted.

Scooping up her discarded gun, he turned back to her, presenting it mockingly to her. "My lady."

An idea occurring to her, albeit petty, she snatched the gun, and for good measure, landed a kick straight to his abdomen, knocking him flat. Before he could gather his bearings, she was gone.

Stilettos we're not very appealing all of the sudden.

Chuckling to himself, he rose and re-entered the bar, already scheming ways to get his higher-ups off his back about this specific assignment. He'd handle it on his own.

* * *

It wasn't until later that night in her hotel that she found a jet black business card with a certain someone's number and logo written in chrome lettering tucked into her dress pocket.

Oh that _prick_. 

Nevertheless, she may have continued her ventures to the bar, just to keep an eye on the area, of course. Never mind the other redhead who also continued to attend the bar, well after his mission's deadline. The fact that they now sat at the same bar area was hardly of any importance at all. Nor were the many cheeky conversations they shared. Neither was the eventual sleek black car pulling up in front to pick her up, with a certain someone at the steering wheel.

Good things came to those who wait, he supposed. 


End file.
